


Forgiveness and Absolution

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e14 Take This Sabbath Day, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-31
Updated: 2006-03-31
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Abbey helps Jed deal with his decision to let the execution go on as scheduled.





	Forgiveness and Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Forgiveness and Absolution**

by: Caroline 

**Character(s):** Jed, Abbey  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Abbey  
**Category(s):** Post-Ep for "Take This Sabbath Day"  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** Abbey helps Jed deal with his decision to let the execution go on as scheduled.  
**Spoiler:** "Take This Sabbath Day"  


I heard through the grapevine spreading from the West Wing to the East that Father Cavanaugh was summoned by my husband. I didn't need to be told what it was concerning; Jed hadn't gotten much sleep the past few nights. He was torn between what he should do as President and what he should do as a Catholic and former theology student. He talked and I listened. I decided it was his decision, not mine; it was something he had to grapple with by himself. I would be the one person not weighing in on the choice. The one person not pushing him one way or the other. 

But I listened. I told him I would support any decision he made because I trusted him. I wasn't sure what he would do, but now I know. And I'll be there to pick up the pieces. 

I'm waiting for him with a hot bath when he finally makes his way to our sanctuary. From inside the bathroom, I hear his heavy footsteps as he walks to the sofa. I close my eyes and I can see him plopping down, leaning forward, with his head in his hands. I offer a quick prayer that he will be able to forgive himself and push open the bathroom door. 

A soft smile graces my lips as I find him sitting exactly as in my mind, it quickly vanishes as he looks at me with those pained blue eyes. The expression on his face and the anguish in those eyes cause my heart to break and my own eyes to water. But I can't force myself to look away. 

He meets me halfway across the room and draws me into his embrace, as tightly as he can. I feel the wetness of his tears fall upon my neck as he hangs on as though I'll disappear into thin air. 

When he pulls slowly away, I take his hand and lead him into the steamy bathroom. I strip my clothes as he sits on the rim of the bathtub lost in his own world, battling his conscience in that way only he can. I stand in front of him, as naked as the day I came into this world, and slip his tie from around his neck, undo the buttons on his shirt. His hands rest on his thighs, gripping the cloth of his pants. His eyes are closed until I lift his chin with my index finger. A brief, gentle kiss to encourage him to keep fighting the battle. 

A tiny smile is my thanks as his tie slithers to the ground, followed by his shirt. I move to unfasten his belt, but he takes my hands in his and pulls me to him, his head on my chest. 

Listening to my heartbeat. 

He called it the metronome of his life once, said it kept him grounded and stable. Corny? Yes. But it got to me. It still scares me sometimes when I think about it. That our lives are so wonderfully wrapped up. What would happen to him if that metronome ran out? Or vice versa. I don't like to linger on that too long. I prefer to "live each day to its fullest." But that preference doesn't end the wonder and worry. 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close as physically possible. I place a kiss on the crown of his head, run my fingers through his hair and force him by sheer wish to look at me, whispering, "Let me finish?" 

He nods in response and drops his hands from around my waist. As I wordlessly coax Jed to stand, I have a quick flashback of the girls when they were younger-too young to undress themselves. I flash forward to when this-helping my husband take a bath-will become part of our routine. He catches the distant look on my face and the tears building in my eyes before I can replace the mask. His hand cups my chin, drawing my attention away from his boxers. His other hand reaches up and together they frame my face. A weak smile of reassurance that I'm okay and, as a reward, I get a smile of my own. He slides his boxers down his strong legs and takes my hand, helping me into the tub, before climbing in. 

We speak no words, just soak in the water. My arms wrapped around his body. My chest pillowing his head. His tears dripping onto my breasts and I tighten my hold on him. These are the times that I hate his job. Hate Leo for putting the idea of running for President into his head. Hate all of them for helping him getting here. Hate myself for not stopping him. These are the times that I wish I could take him away from here. Wish I could stop the world from spinning, stop wars from starting, fix everything wrong with the world just so he could get a good night's sleep. But most of all, these are the times I wish for forgiveness and absolution-not just for him, not just for me, but for all of us. 


End file.
